Experiments in Molecular Gastronomy and the Effects on the Human Heart
by cutepet
Summary: All Molly wanted for Valentine's Day this year was to go home and relax. Sherlock has other ideas.


"Happy Valentine's Day!"

Molly waved goodbye to the fifth coworker to wish her well as she left, making sure Meena was out of sight before dropping her smile. It's not their fault, really. Valentine's had always been her favorite holiday before, but this was supposed to be her first Valentine's Day as a married woman. Add to that a horrible day that involved a particularly brutal homicide and Molly just wasn't in the mood for love and happiness (the husband claimed his wife broke her neck when she tripped and fell down the stairs, but the finger shaped bruises around her neck, and the faded bruises of differing ages all around her body, told a different story altogether).

She really just wanted to go home, drink an entire bottle of wine, and relax with Toby curled against her side.

It's not that she wanted Tom back, or that he was a bad guy for leaving her. A man can only take so many forks to the hand before moving on (Tom's quota was one). That's not the only reason he left, of course.

No, they both knew the real problem. She was still in love -

_bzzzzz_

She pulled the phone out of her pocket, but she knew who it was before looking. _Speak of the devil._

_**Come to Baker Street. - SH**_

Stepping out of the flow of foot traffic, she sent off a quick response.

_**not 2nite - m**_

Resuming her previous pace, she almost made it to the tube station before receiving the next two messages, back to back.

_**I have a bottle of Beck Burgenland Pinot Noir here. - SH**_

_**I need you. - SH**_

She let out a sigh and hailed a cab.

_He'll never stop until I give in and go over there. John must've hidden his gun again, or something. _

Their relationship had changed significantly, first after his relapse and Janine, then even more so after Moriarty returned from the dead, just a little over month ago. Of course Sherlock's first thought was of his pathologist, since she had escaped Jim's detection and helped Sherlock fake his death. He rushed into the morgue to protect her, only to find Moriarty already incapacitated on the floor, and Molly crawling out from underneath an autopsy table.

Seems even the most insane of psychopaths fall when someone slits their Achille's tendon with a scalpel.

Since that incident, Molly couldn't shake the Consulting Detective. While John was still his best friend, it seemed she found herself more and more in Sherlock's company. Dinners, crime scenes, Saturday afternoon tea.

It was a week before she realized he must be lonely, and figuring he was afraid of a relapse, Molly always showed up. Always.

_Well, at least this time he has the wine I like._

Entering 221, Molly popped her head into Mrs. Hudson's flat to say hello, only to see she was out.

"She's with the bookseller one block over. Come along, Molly."

Molly took the familiar steps with a sly smile. _I knew they'd be perfect for each other._

The smile was replaced with a look of resignation as soon as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. There was Sherlock, goggles on his face, with assorted lab equipment around him on the kitchen table. Lab equipment and… was that food? She grabbed the extra set of goggles from his outstretched hand, put on a set of gloves - he bought a box of small gloves just for her, she noticed - and began examining the various items. Mixed in among the pipettes, beakers, PH strips, syringes and - oh my - liquid nitrogen, there was some honey looking mixture, cornmeal, and cheese.

"Sherlock, what is all this?"

"Molecular Gastronomy! Formally, the term refers to the scientific discipline that studies the physical and chemical processes that occur while cooking, but there's been a new trend of taking these principles and experimenting to create unique foods. Naturally, I've already started the process on most of these, but there's plenty more to do," he rattled off quickly, almost unsure, before nonchalantly glancing at Molly out of the corner of his eye.

"Is this dinner," she ventured.

"Uh, right, rubbish, I know, I'll just…" he spun around to turn off a bunsen burner before moving to take off his dressing gown and goggles.

"No! No, Sherlock, I like it. Sounds like fun! Where do we start?"

With a relieved sigh, he shrugged his makeshift lab coat back onto his shoulders, "We start with the honey."

Several hours, as well as two glasses of wine, later and Molly was falling, exhausted, into Sherlock's chair in front of the fire. They made honey caviar with cheese, clear ravioli and canapes, arugula agar spaghetti noodles, and parmesan ice cream with prosciutto. An eclectic fare for sure, but it had been a long time since she'd used her science skills for fun. Sherlock was in his element as the Master Chemist, and it wasn't long before she had completely forgotten why she was so upset.

Unfortunately, she had worked today and she was now hitting a wall. Molly exhaled tiredly, and closed her eyes. _If only those large hands could give me a proper massage._

Two hands landed on her shoulders, "I was just thinking the same thing, Molly Hooper."

"Did I actually say that," she asked, a warm flush on her cheeks.

"No, you're just thinking very loudly. Sit back, face straight ahead with your eyes closed, and lean into my hands. Yes, like that. Now relax."

Obedient in her fatigued state, Molly stopped questioning Sherlock's motives and relaxed into his touch.

She was awoken some indeterminate time later when something was placed against her mouth. Still half asleep, she didn't even open her eyes as she reached out her tongue to moisten her lips, and tasted the object placed there. It was candy; sweet and fruity…

"Mm, lychee," her eyes snapped open, "I love lychee."

Sherlock let out an uncharacteristic giggle, "I know. That's why I made them."

He gave her a candy box, but instead of chocolates, inside was what looked to be flowers suspended in glass.. "It's beautiful, what is it?"

"A croquant, made with cornstarch, lychee juice, and edible flowers using a dehydrator," his smile beamed with pride, "The article told me to get you flowers and candy, but look, it's both at once and it matched the theme - "

"Sherlock, what list, what are you talking - "

"Oh, and how could I forget? Hold on. Stay right, right there." He glided to the window to grab his violin and started playing a piece of music Molly had never heard before. It was lovely, and reminded her of spring with it's hopeful and awakening themes. The more he played, the more she realized it was a song Sherlock had composed himself. The piece became a little more somber, with an undercurrent of loneliness, but ended by revisiting the hopeful themes from the beginning.

_He wrote this for me._

"Did you like it," Sherlock asked, holding his instrument at his side, once again unsure.

Molly didn't respond, but stood up and walked towards him. She grabbed the violin and bow, placing them back in their case. She then leaned up and kissed Sherlock gently on the lips. "Was this a date?"

"Did I do it wrong? I followed the list! I cleaned the flat, I planned an evening incorporating both of our interests. I gave you a massage, I gave you flowers and candy, and I even serenaded you. The website ensured a successful Valentine's date, I -"

"Sherlock, ssssh," she caressed his cheek, "it was perfect," she kissed him again, this time cheering when he started to reciprocate. Just as it was becoming more passionate, he pulled away, causing Molly to groan.

"Molly, in the interest of honesty, I fully intend to pursue a romantic relationship. With you. A real one."

She giggled, "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend," but he scoffed.

"What a childish title; I much prefer companion, partner," he pulled her closer, flush with his body, "lover."

"Perhaps we should discuss the terms of this new partnership in your office," she breathed into his ear before walking to the bedroom at the back of the flat.

"Molly, that's not my office, and it's not very professional to discuss - " she threw her shirt into the hall, beckoning him with her fingers, " - Oh."

With four long strides, he was slamming the door.

_**AN: This was written for canibecandid, for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy it! **_

_**Molly's flowers: www dot molecularrecipes dot com/surprises/edible-flower-glass/ **_


End file.
